30 Quotes About Jeanette-leblanc

Do not try quiet my voice.Do not attempt to soften my edges or tame my prowl.I am inhabiting my wild.I am encompassing the dance.I am no longer burning down.That time is over.I am the white hot ignition.I am starting the fire.I am rising like flame.

Butterflies are beautiful, but the process of emerging from the chrysalis and spreading your wings can hurt like fucking hell. But still, you will survive the transformation (over and over again) and you will fly. Remember this when it hurts the most. This is the metamorphosis, the going down to liquid, and the rising again. It’s no joke – but damn, it’s one hell of a journey.

I know the hard ground and the taste of the salt water I’m made of and the way even getting out of bed feels impossible some days. I know how some moments there’s not even enough air.I know the desperate and the bargains you want to make with the universe and every last prayer you’ve prayed to gods you don’t even believe in.But stupid? No, love.Not stupid. Not you. You are infinitely, impossibly, beautifully human.

You alone own your story. Do not let another tell it, and if you find yourself in the company of one determined to rewrite your words or own your narrative, fight like hell until you hold it again. There is little in life that is solely ours. Your story is one of those priceless few things. It is beyond precious. The people meant to be In your life will only strengthen your voice, not take it from you.

Poetry has a long, long memory. After our love is long gone, we will still be reading your poems. You will not be the only one whose heart this breaks. Know that we will stand , reading the words written about our love – and we will ache for you The body will remember the way you shifted and sighed as skin met skin and those words will pay tribute to the lines that were composed while we moved through this world together. Because of this, we will never truly forget you.Let us remember.

The less I know – the more the world opens up, wide and waiting.This is how I have come to understand the taste of freedom.I am filled with resistance. But still, I am here.One letter on this screen at a time, I am here. Neck aching and back bent and eyes burning, I am here.This is what it means to show up.This is what it means to trust the calling.This is what It means to write.

You will always be my teachers, just as much or more than I am yours. Do not think – nor let anyone convince you – that because of your age or your lack of experience that you do not hold wisdom beyond comprehension. You are wise enough to change the entire world in this movement, right now. Just as you are.

I see you, beneath the surface. I see your untamable wild. I see your billowing heart. I see your unshed tears and your not yet dreams and your devotion to spirit. I see you howl at the moon and call the ocean home and ground to earth and grow taller than the trees.I see you.You are not alone. You are not invisible.You are seen. You are seen. You are seen.And my god, you are beautiful.

We are here to love hard and true. Here to give ourselves over to the rush and bliss of it all. Here to offer our patchwork hearts over and over again. Here to feel and fall and hurt and bleed. Here to say yes and to choose wholeness and to break anyway and to do it all again.